


I'll be around the bend

by orphan_account



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-18
Updated: 2008-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid doesn't choose the FBI. The FBI chooses him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalimai](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kalimai).



**Prologue**

Reid's mother dies when he's 17 and well on his way to his doctorates in psychology and law. He doesn't mourn, just packs his bags as quick as he can. He knows what happens to kids who aren't of age when they're left orphaned. He doesn't want to know whether his father is still alive or would take him back. He doesn't want to live with his father. He just wants to be left alone, he wants... he wants his mom to read to him as he closes his eyes and remembers her voice.

But what he wants doesn't matter. He calls the ambulance, describes the what-who-where calmly and when he puts down the phone, he can only go over, kiss her cool, waxy forehead and leave, the door clicking shut softly behind him. His heart is heavy in his chest. He's alone now, all alone against the world.

He'll manage, he tells himself. He's managed before, and now the only person he has to care for is himself.

~*~

**Chapter 1**

[Berne was beautiful in spring](http://farm1.static.flickr.com/175/466547308_9816ea1aa9_o.jpg), especially at sunrise. Reid had always been an early morning person, had always loved long walks in the crisp night air as it was slowly replaced by sunlight warmth. The water of the Aare river glittered.

He'd never been able to figure out what it was about his particular city that had made him stay in place at long last - maybe it had been the merciless winter from two years before, and the way Jan had offered him a place to sleep on the mattress on his floor until he got back up on his feet. Maybe he'd just been tired from travelling the world.

He spoke German by now, and French, bits of Spanish and Portuguese besides - it hadn't been hard to learn them, and he'd always liked languages. He had problems with the pronounciation, but many Swiss spoke English, too, so he got around better than he'd expected he would.

At just past five am, there were barely any people outdoors yet, so he felt like he had the whole city to himself. The bustle would start up in half an hour maybe, people leaving homes to get to work, children waking up in their beds, parents getting them to school, then to the city center to do their shopping or run other errands. Reid himself still had an hour until he had to report at the police station. More than enough time to sit down on one of the benches lining the river, more than enough time to just... close his eyes and listen.

~*~

"Morning," the fifty-something guy in the office greeted, warmth palpable in his voice, as Reid tossed a couple of letters onto his table. His desk was already stacked with papers, chaos all around, so they didn't look out of place.

"Those were outside by the door," Reid half-grinned. "Did you scare the mail boy again?"

"There was a girl, now that you mention it... I might have been a little gruff. Is that why they don't bring me my mail inside anymore?"

"That might be the reason, yes."

Captain Steiner gave him a sharply amused look. "What're you doing here, boy?"

Reid shrugged. "Had an appointment with Criminal Inspector Limantour, thought I'd see how you were doing."

"Did he ask for your help, or did you worm your way into the investigation again? No, don't answer that, I don't want to know. Let me guess, it's that serial case?"

Another shrug was all he got in reply.

"How's Jan?"

"Coming home for dinner, if _you_ have to ask _me_ about his well-being," Reid grinned. "I'll make him."

"Thanks. And I expect you to show up as well." Steiner waved him out. "Now, scram, give an old officer some peace to finish his paperwork." The genuine care in his voice belied the coarse wording.

Reid didn't mind. He waved back as he left. He'd just wanted to make sure he was all right. They hadn't spoken in a few days. He'd been caught up with the case for the past week, making geographical profiles, trying to figure out motivation, victomology. They had good criminology here, but they weren't quite as progressive as one might have wished with using these aids to solve actual crimes. In many ways, he considered himself lucky they didn't feel like he was stepping on their toes by providing these informations to help them out with some trickier cases.

It took him a while to reach home; he got a few groceries on the way, coffee, sleeping pills from the pharmacy. Home was a tattered building in the midst of renovated, prettier houses lined up by the street. It had been cheap, though, and that had been what counted back then when he'd decided to stay here longer. Of course, there would have been no way he could have paid for it without Jan. Who incidentally had already opened up the office and was talking on the phone when Reid entered. Reid set the cup of Starbucks upon the desk and Jan smiled hugely in thanks, signing Reid to wait a few seconds.

"How's dad?" he asked when he'd hung up.

"Wants to see you for dinner," Reid said.

"You're sure he didn't say 'us'?"

"Yes."

"Liar."

"I can't," Reid said. "I've places to be."

"Date?" Jan grinned. "Who's that, then? Anyone I know?"

Reid rolled his eyes. "No to all of those. Is there a new case?" He knew, statistically, it would take a few weeks for business to pick up again. Autumn was the busiest time of the year, winter the slowest. It would be almost two weeks before they could afford to pick and choose their employment again.

"Nothing exciting. Theft case, which is a step up from last weeks' trail-and-spy movie, I guess. I'm taking it, since you're busy. Anything I can help with on that murder of yours? You're still on fireman duty, right?"

"Stop calling him that," Reid sighed. "It's not a fireman."

"The press calls him that."

"I know. The probability that it's an arsonist is already too low for it to really be material to the investigation process, and if you consider the circumstances of the disposals, it makes it almost impossible to logically deduce that the unsub is a fireman -" Jan wasn't listening anymore. Reid sucked on his lower lip to stop himself from going off on a tangent. "Did you get the copies of those victim files sorted?" he asked instead.

"Yep. Gruesome. Reminded me why I quit criminal police in the first place. Thanks for that."

Reid looked up from the mail he'd been shifting through. "You could still go back, you know? They'd take you in a second."

"I like it here. With you. Learned so much more here than I ever did during police training too." Jan smiled. "I can detect a guilty conscience by smell alone at this point. Never mind the buckets of useless statistics I've picked up."

Reid snorted. "I'll go upstairs, put the groceries away. Drink your coffee, it's probably cold already. Don't forget dinner tonight with your parents."

"Reid?" Jan called after him when he was almost out the door.

"Yes?"

"For tonight? Lose the sweater. Seriously. It's atrocious."

~*~

Sometimes, Reid walked around the Old Town at night where the lights were so pretty and everything looked unrealistically out of place. It had little to do with the people going to or from theater showings or musicals, bars and clubs, more with the feeling of isolation and yet belonging, like he was part of the rumble of the city, ensconed in its belly, a veil of warmth around him. It felt... comfortable. He'd never felt like that in Las Vegas, but sometimes, when he thought back to his childhood, he had glimpses of memories of a similar sensation, when his head had lain against his mom's chest as she'd read him from a book, everything shut but his ears, filtering in her voice.

Two years ago, he'd frequented one of the bars around here more often. He'd been lonelier then. He remembered a sensation of nostalgia, almost like homesickness for any American big city; they were all so different from Berne. He'd only had Jan back then, nobody else quite ready to swap life stories with a strange, gangly Vegas boy who looked too young to drink or take home legally.

Reid grew tired after his third walk-around. It was just before midnight and he didn't know what he was looking for. Some teenage boys to protect from the sadist burning them to ashes, maybe, but the chances of running across anything suspicious at exactly the right moment in exactly the right place were slim to none. With some luck, he wouldn't be called to the station tomorrow morning to get a new slim folder with the next victim's name printed on it.

He picked one of the many bars bordering the street and entered, a wave of warmth hitting him square in the face. It wasn't cold outside, bearable with his thin jacket; he'd have to lose it in here. He liked it when there were many people in a bar. Nobody'd be paying attention to him, except whoever he _wanted_ to. There was even a little dance floor off in the back with flickering red-yellow-orange lights, dancing like flames. He could feel the sweat coming on without moving a muscle.

"A beer, please?" he asked the bartender in German. The boy gave him a fleeting smile and a minute later put it up in front of him. It was a busy night, no time for smalltalk. Reid understood, didn't really mind. He didn't think he wanted conversation. He could have gone with Jan if he'd wanted a merry round of laughs.

People-watching was still one of his favourite occupations in these situations. Just letting his gaze travel through the maze, the winding, unwinding bodies. Two girls further down the bar sitting on two stools facing each other were having an argument. He didn't need to hear the words to read it was about a boy - who wasn't even interested in either of them. He'd leave with his dance partner of tonight, after this song or the next. The two girls should have been paying attention to her, not each other. He took another sip of his beer. It was still cool, which was even better now that the heat'd reached his neck and was steadily working its way up.

"Not a heavy drinker?"

Reid jumped. He'd lost track of his surroundings for a second, deep in thought. He realized what was wrong with the picture half a second later. "How'd you know I speak English?" he blinked. Nobody else around him did; either German or French were mingling together, words kissing words.

"I didn't _know_," the man replied, white teeth flashing as he smiled. "But I don't speak German, so I thought I'd try my luck."

Reid nodded, turning back to his beer.

"You looked out of place," the guy tried again.

Reid sighed, glanced up. "Don't - don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not in the mood for talking tonight?"

"What's your name?"

Reid narrowed his eyes. "Didn't I just -"

"Indulge me."

"Reid."

"I'm Morgan. It was nice to meet you." And that was it. Without another word or look, he moved on, away from Reid, smiling at a girl further down the bar who gave him a long, smoldering once-over and said something, thumb jutting at the dance floor.

He was muscular, definitely working out, but not one of those guys who only did it for show-off. This guy - something in the way he moved, like a wildcat on the prowl. He used those muscles. The way he held himself, his arms, he was used to carrying a gun. Maybe army, Reid concluded. Or maybe, with a jolt to his stomach, police. US police. Accent was clearly American. And hadn't that been a dream once. He tried not to watch, but it was hard. Morgan danced like he was dying, making every motion count like it was his last.

Reid got out of the bar when the last notes of the song died away. It had been too hot in there anyway.

~*~

"Hey. Hey, pretty boy."

He hadn't expected Morgan to follow him. He didn't think the guy was a crazed axe murderer, but just in case, he stopped only when he was sure there was a big enough distance between them.

"I saw you leave."

"Yes," Reid said. He hadn't been exactly subtle about it.

"I saw you watch." It didn't sound proud, or conceited. Just stating a fact, and his eyes were deep and thoughtful. Measuring.

Reid hated to be measured. He looked away. "So?"

"Before, at the bar? I thought you weren't interested."

"I'm not -"

"Just let me offer, right? If you want to dance, just in case. I'm in town for a day or two tops, staying in a hotel like, two streets from here? Say the words and I'll go right back in, dance with other people. But I'd like to with you, tonight."

He was - Reid would have said beautiful, but it wasn't the word. You didn't call men like Morgan beautiful. Or handsome, and good-looking didn't do him justice. He just _was_, in some strange way, and in the flickering lights of the club names across the street, he probably knew it, too.

Reid had slept with exactly two people in his life. He didn't know how this worked. He didn't know what he could do. He didn't know why tonight, when he felt like the beat of the song from before was still thumping in his chest.

"If you're scared, you can - tell someone. Let me - oh, here." Morgan took a step closer, and Reid felt like he should step back, but he couldn't bring his feet to move. The badge read 'Derek Morgan', right beneath the FBI seal, and the title of special agent. It didn't mean anything, but it was an identification. He could write Jan a text, his cell had GPS and he hadn't ever been with a guy before, but the way Morgan was looking at him made clear what he wanted.

"What department?" He couldn't stop the tiny shake in his voice, swallowed it down. His long fingers were buried in the pockets of his jacket.

Morgan smiled. "BAU, if you've heard of it. Probably not -"

"Behavioral Analysis Unit," Reid interrupted. "I..."

There was a moment of silence. Morgan didn't look like he was in a hurry.

"If - if I was in the mood for talking again. Would that be fine, too?"

"I don't -"

"I have a place nearby, too. A house. If - if that's all right."

Morgan blinked. "Are you sure?"

"If you don't mind the fifteen minutes walk."

"I don't mind," Morgan said. "But - Reid, right? This isn't - it's a one-time thing, you understand, right? I'm leaving tomorrow, the day after at the latest."

Reid nodded, impatient. "I'm not stupid. I know what a hook-up is. I don't think I want to fuck in some hotel, though, nice as it might be." Before Morgan could reply, he hurried on. "What're you doing in Switzerland of all things, anyway?" And that took the wind out of Morgan's sails where their nightly activities were concerned, which was nice, for a change. Reid liked to be in charge, even if it was just a conversation.

"Tour de l'Europe," Morgan said with a tilt to his head and a quirked smile that made Reid shiver with heat. Morgan's French accent was as ghastly as his own, but for once, he felt a tickle of laughter inside at the fact that they'd failed the same hurdle.

"And there's the smile I've been waiting for all night," Morgan added.

Reid pulled his jacket closer and flushed.

~*~

"PI, huh?" Morgan grinned as they sat down at the kitchen table. It was silent in the house. The walls creaked a little, a car whirred by outside, muffled sound through the walls. Jan wasn't at home after all. Reid'd thought he might not. Probably spent the night at his parents' house, or he'd gone to his girl for a sleep-over.

"Something like that."

"How'd you know about the BAU?"

Reid gave him a look. "I've read all the books, especially all from one of the very first BAU agents - David Rossi? He has some interesting points about thought patterns many psychopaths have in common, in his collection of interviews; his overview of modern cases from a investigate point of view especially gave a great insight into the workings of the unit in particular, though I imagine it must have changed a bit since he was part of the team -"

"Reid. Reid, slow down." Morgan grinned.

Reid slumped. "Sorry."

"It's fine. You were talking a bit too fast for my brain to catch up at this hour. And with the drinks I've had."

"I think it's an extremely rewarding department, considering the percentage of cases that get solved by trying to understand the criminal mind in comparison -"

"Have you lived here long?"

Reid blinked. "What?"

"You seem familiar with the environment, the people, one might go as far as to say comfortable, but you don't quite fit in, you're not part of the culture yet - two years? Three?"

"Two and a half," Reid said. "Do you want some coffee? Or something to drink? I think we even have some lasagna left-over from -"

Morgan got up from his seat, corners of his lips quirked up as he walked the two steps around it. Then he was pulling Reid up by his forearm, off his seat. "Later," he murmured. "Right now, I really need to make you shut up."

"I don't think it's particularly polite to imply that my talking is bothe-mph!"

It hadn't been unexpected as such, but it was new, and Reid was scared of new things, like kisses from strangers he'd known for maybe half an hour, or the hands on his back steadying him as an insistent tongue worked to make him open his mouth. It wasn't bad, just different. He'd never expected himself to kiss another man, hadn't - he'd thought about it, of course, after 'Boys on the Rock' and 'Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit' - but it had never been real, never a fantasy that had manifested.

He hadn't thought he'd like it this much, the small licks over his lower lip and the strength in the grip around him when Morgan pulled him in tighter by placing his arms around him. His fingers slid under his shirt, making Reid shiver involuntarily as they found flesh, warm, contrast to the coolish air hitting skin.

Morgan kissed like he danced, enthusiastic, abandoning reason for sensation, but when Reid finally caught up, started kissing him just as zealously, he didn't push for control. He let Reid explore while his hands ran up his sides, thumbs hitting rib cage, marking one bone after the next.

"You're too skinny," was the only comment when they parted with a gasp.

Reid glowered. "I'm not in the habit to kiss people who insult me."

"Oh, so this is a habit, then?" Morgan laughed and caught a nipple with the pad of his thumb.

Reid gasped at the jolt of pleasure that raced through his nervous system. "Not - not as much of a h-habit as it's for you, I assume," he stuttered, fighting to keep his composure. It was a shot in the dark, but one that seemed to ring true if Morgan's expression was any indication.

Replies could wait apparently, because Morgan just kissed him again; he pulled Reid's hips towards him and up against his own by means of hand on ass while he let his tongue do something that made Reid momentarily lose notice of his own name.

"Rules," Morgan said suddenly. He was still holding Reid up, though leaving a few inches of space between them now so they could look at each other. He was out of breath as well, but not nearly as rattled by the sudden onslaught of sensations as Reid. "One - no profiling each other, starting now."

"Does that make me part of the team?" Reid asked with a wry smile and regretted it almost immdiately when Morgan gave him a long look. He couldn't read it, didn't know what it meant, but it made him twitchy.

"Two - you have a bed, right?"

"You only fuck on beds?"

"Personally, I can make do with a wall, but I thought you might prefer the comfortable option for the first round."

This look, Reid could read very well. Heat climbed up his face and he struggled against the hold on his hips, wanting Morgan to let go so he could get back his personal space. He needed to think, which was impossible with Morgan's erection visible beneath his pants, his body heat and the scent of the coffee he'd drunk coming off him. He really needed to think, mainly of a reply that would spare him the humiliation of having to admit that Morgan was right about him never having done this before while not blurting out the first thing that came to his mind - that he wasn't a virgin and why did people keep assuming he was?

Morgan didn't let go. His arms tightened and he pulled Reid back in before he could start rambling out loud, instead of in the safety of his own mind. The kiss carried on from where they'd left off the last one, Morgan taking his mouth, nibbling on his lips. Reid felt himself relax a fraction before tensing up again just as soon as he realized.

"Left or right door?" Morgan asked, breathless, and sneakily left Reid no time to answer, so he had to nod his chin in between kisses at the left-hand door which was his room. Morgan didn't ask anything else, just walked them both inside and towards the bed, gently pushing Reid back onto it when the backs of his knees collided with its edge.

"I don't -" Reid started, gulping protests down when Morgan's fingers made short work of his buttons, and unzipped his pants.

"It's fine," Morgan mumbled, kissing down his neck, licking at the spot where his blood was rushing down towards his cock, heartbeat hard and fast like a drum roll.

And strangely, it turned out fine, instinct taking over as they slowly undressed. Instead of lying down on top of him, Morgan fell beside him, and they rolled on their sides, facing each other, sharing more kisses; a strange feeling settled over him, like static crackling in his ears but softer, more soothing, especially when Morgan slowly slid down his body, tongue on every part of him, licking him all over, and then took his cock in, making him rock up into the wet heat that was his mouth.

It really was fine after that.

~*~

"Oh, wow, _awkward_."

Reid sucked in his breath and slammed into a sitting position, hands gripping the covers he pulled up to cover himself. "Jan!" he hissed. "Get out!"

Jan smirked. "Shit, he's a hunk!" In English, which was just _mean_.

"Shut _up_!"

"Thanks, really," came the groan from beside him in the bed. Morgan sat up a second later, looking far less wrinkled from the pillows and a lot more gorgeous than Reid could remember from last night. His gaze was resting on Jan, curious. "Who's he?"

Jan snickered, closed the door again with a snap, not before pronouncing that breakfast was ready.

"Don't ask," Reid groaned, burying back in bed. "I forgot to set the alarm. He always does that when I forget to set the alarm, comes barging into my room, it's like having an older brother or younger brother or something, I mean, is it that much to ask for him to knock and wait until I'm up before telling me about whatever it is he's made for breakfast?"

Morgan was giving him a strange look. Reid winced.

"I didn't just imagine that particular habit last night, huh?" Morgan said. His eyes were glittering, amused.

"I have habits?"

Morgan let it go. He waited two beats, rubbing his eyes, then asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"You're not hurt or -"

"_No_."

"Fine. Fine." Morgan held up his hands and started getting off the bed. "Forget I asked. Can I catch a shower before I leave? I'll be quick."

"Yeah. Down the hallway we came in through, then the door on the right. Towel's under the sink."

Morgan pulled on his boxers, grabbed the rest of the clothes they'd strewn across the floor the night before and left for his shower without another word. Reid didn't watch him go, instead stayed tucked in until he heard the door shut a second time, glaring at the foot of his bed.

He didn't know what he felt. He didn't think he wanted to know what he felt. Once again, his impulsivity had taken him down a path he'd decidedly not wanted to take - a stranger, heavens. A guy, too, a guy _like that_. What had he been thinking? Next time, he thought he might actually prefer throwing himself in front of a victim when the killer fired a shot. Again. Not that that had been fun. Flackjackets were good for a lot of things, but sparing the wearer bruises and broken ribs, they were not.

His cell was still in his jacket pocket, which he found on the back of his chair, fished it out. There was a call from the police station, and two messages. He winced. One, from Limantour, asked Reid to come in as soon as he got the message, the second was a pissed rap of 'Where the hell are you and why aren't you answering your phone, you idiot?'. The latter was from Danny. He liked her fine except for those times where she pretended to be fifty years older than him instead of the barely ten she was in reality. He wasn't a kid!

"You getting out of bed anytime soon or what?" Jan yelled from the kitchen.

~*~

When Reid got out of the shower fifteen minutes later, he was surprised to see Morgan was still there. And amiably chatting with Jan as he leaned against the fridge, half a bun in hand, nodding as Jan spoke.

When Morgan looked up, his gaze was half-apologetic, half molten heat. It made Reid uncomfortably aware he'd forgotten to take a clean shirt. He pulled the towel tighter around his shoulders and glared back.

"Hey, Reid, this guy's FBI, did you know that?" Jan asked, giving him a look that told him exactly what he thought of the usual crazy Reid behavior. He spoke English too, possibly so that Morgan could understand what was going on.

"I know," Reid muttered. "What are you doing? He was supposed to have left already."

Morgan's expression closed. "I really should be on my way."

"No, seriously, guys - Reid, we got talking and he does the same things you do, you know, analysing the behavior of criminals, trying to get behind how they think to prevent their next crime? But he's, like, a professional at it. He might help you guys at the police out with the fireman guy."

"He's not a fireman."

"I know. Just -"

Reid glared some more and vanished into his room. He heard muffled talk from behind the closed doors as he picked a clean shirt and dressed. Then he grabbed his cell back and wrote Danny a quick message that he'd be there in half an hour. He figured he'd just grab breakfast on the way.

But when he returned to the kitchen, Morgan was gone.

"You really are a class-act," Jan said from behind his bowl of cereal.

Reid frowned. "What?" He took the left-over bun out of the basket, almost burned his fingers and barely bit down on a curse. Instead, he slapped on some cheese he found in the fridge.

"The guy was cool! And he wanted to help out, but you made him feel like he had to leave right away."

Reid narrowed his eyes. "Remember when you used to date, before Vera, when you picked up a girl for the night? Would you have liked me to invite the nice girl to have breakfast and maybe watch some TV as well after it, just, you know, to get to know her?"

Jan flushed. "Okay, you have a point. But -"

"I've got to go. I think they have a new victim, or a lead or something. Got anything on the theft case?"

"'m on it, don't worry. You know, we need a freakin' secretary."

Reid waved and was out the door before Jan could complain some more about how he had to run their agency all on his own. It wasn't that it was untrue, but it tended to be the same old tape on repeat, and right now, Reid had very little time to rehash that old argument. They'd talk about it later.

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When Reid came home later in the afternoon, he found Vera manning the phone in the office and typing away at her computer. There was a white-gold ring on her finger, very clearly visible against her dark skin.

"That's new," Reid smiled, tired but curious enough to ask.

"Birthday present from Jan," she agreed. She spoke French, as she always did with him; it was a nice change from all the German and English, and it was always good to brush up on it. "Don't go thinking it's more than that, though."

Reid grinned. "Swiss people not so keen to marry after hitting the one-year-mark?"

"Wouldn't know about Swiss people, but I'm definitely not thinking about it yet for a long time. I'd rather not get married at all, if I can help it in any way - it's just additional paperwork." She lifted a stack. "You guys got enough of that around here. Why don't you hire a secretary?"

"No money?"

"Well, if you're willing to take on a trainee, I've got this boy down the block from my street, sophomore at university, law student, looking for internship in an investigative branch. If I don't tell him he'll be manning the phones all day, he'll send in an application. Worked as secretary for a law firm for two years now, too. Got bored with it, though."

"He'd be bored here, too, then."

"But on the bright side, he'd get your paperwork done for one week or so before he resigned."

"Isn't Jan the one in charge of all the technical things about this place?" Reid asked, looking confused. "Where is he anyway?"

"Hunting after stolen diamonds? Apparently, the case is a bit more high maintenance than he thought. How are _you_? You look exhausted." She quickly finished typing, then got up. The phone rang. She gave it a glare and it stopped after one ring.

Reid chuckled. "The power's still working, I see."

"Yeah, that's me. Scaring the phones into submission. I wish I'd gotten one of the cool ones, you know, like telekinesis. I'd eat breakfast in bed every day." She walked around the desk and picked up a card, then grabbed his arm and led him upstairs. "We should do dinner. You probably haven't eaten all day."

Reid could feel his stomach protest. "I'm not hungry."

"What gruesome thing did you have to look at today, then?"

"Vera..."

"All right, all right, forget I asked. Did you get any new leads, at least? The papers were full of hints about the police having a suspect."

Reid sat down at the kitchen table and watched her bustle around the room. Quickly, she had a pot of soup brewing. Chicken soup out of the box, but you couldn't have everything. When she placed two bowls, one before him, he had to admit it smelled nice and the heat warmed him from the inside when he took a sip.

"Can't really talk about it," he said in answer to her question. "Sorry. At the moment, we're trying not to give any information out to the public, just in case."

"All right, no police talk. Then - how about you tell me about the guy?" Her smile was huge.

"Which gu- oh. Morgan."

"Morgan. That's a nice name. Jan said he was a total hunk. Like, football guy and stuff."

Reid sipped more of his soup, embarrassed. Memories from last night flashed up, Morgan sucking on his dick, Morgan's hands everywhere, Morgan's dick hard and hot in his palm... He blinked, willing the thoughts away. "I'm not even attracted to guys," he muttered.

Vera's expression was puzzled. "Really?"

"I - uhm. I mean, I'm not - I never really thought about it, I didn't - never eliminated the possibility completely, I guess, but I - ah - I prefer girls. I think."

"Oh." She smiled. "Well, that's fine, right? I mean. As long as you had fun and he didn't make you do anything you didn't want to do, a bit of experimenting never hurt anyone."

Reid nodded.

"Except if you want to call him again."

There was something in Vera's voice, a sly, anticipatory kind of undertone that made Reid's head jerk up in response. "What are you not telling me?" he asked suspiciously.

She was playing with the card she'd picked up from the desk downstairs, pointedly trying to look innocent.

"Vera? What - did you do?"

"I didn't _do_ anything."

"Really."

"Okay, so he might have called. Once."

"What?"

"Not about what you think." Vera smirked. "His message was to tell you he saw the newspaper today, that he has some connections that could help with your case and offered his assistence. Also I wrote down his number, in case you're interested in calling him back." She held out the little card for him to take.

Reid snapped it up and stuffed it into his breast pocked. "I'm not."

"All right."

"The department has over a dozen officers working around the clock to make sure we catch the guy, never mind the police force combing the city for clues. I'm already treading on thin water helping out, and they don't even let me carry a gun." Reid felt himself flush. "Not that I'd pass the test, but it's the principle of the thing. So what makes him think _he_ can just waltz in and solve it with one phone call?"

Vera stared. "You're being all territorial." She grinned. "It's kind of hot."

Reid's face resembled an overripe tomato.

"He just wants to help. This sadistic bastard's hurting and murdering people, innocent people. Kids, too, who are totally helpless, and who knows who'll be next?"

"Mitch Barron, at this rate," Reid mumbled.

"What?" Vera frowned. "Who's that? How do you know that?"

"He went missing last night. He was supposed to stay at his friend's house for a sleep-over, left around nightfall, but never arrived. His friend lives two streets away. I've analyzed the area, in the past five years a single person went missing in a half-mile radius around the location Mitch disappeared, and that person was a drunken guy who popped up again two days later, claiming not to remember anything. That was almost a year ago."

"Shit."

"Limantour - the head of the investigation - is convinced he's the guy's newest victim. I don't even know why I'm sitting here, doing nothing while time's ticking on this boy's life, but they sent me home. I never thought I'd protest the strict implementation of an eight-hour workday at some point." He rubbed his hands on his pants and leaned back, unnerved.

"Maybe you should lie down, catch some sleep," Vera proposed. "You must be worn out, and what if they call you in during the night?"

"It's barely six!"

"So? Bet you didn't get much sleep last night either." And there was that sly smile again, right on cue as Reid drew back, mortified.

"I got more than enough, thanks," he protested.

"Yeah," she sighed, disappointed. "Happened to me once, too. You know, hot piece, but a complete downer in bed."

"He was _fine_ in bed, I just - I'm so not talking about this with you!" Reid rose from his chair and put his bowl down with a resolution he didn't feel.

Vera snickered. "Going to bed, after all?"

He didn't deign _that_ with a reply. She'd only tease him more, no matter what he said, and he did know a battle he couldn't win when he saw one.

~*~

Beside the bed, the cellphone vibrated, flashing blue light across the darkness of the room. Reid groggily reached for it and put it to his ear. "Yes?"

"Reid?"

"Yes."

"We have a problem." It was Danny and she sounded agitated

Reid sat up, fighting to banish the sleepiness that made his body heavy and lethargic. A glance to the clock showed he'd slept barely four hours. "What's going on?"

"You better come in right away, we had a sighting."

"Give me ten minutes."

Of course, they both knew he'd need more than ten minutes, but he did manage to wash and dress in five before hurrying out of the house. Twenty minutes after the call, he entered the main police building just off the road. The department was awash with light and personell, officers mingling in the conference room. Danny caught his arm half-way through the hallway.

"We already have police out, but I need to tell all these guys what's going on. L's in his office, he'll give you a rundown."

When Reid entered the office, the first thing he saw was his very own geographical profile, which had been copied onto a much larger map of the Canton of Berne and surrounding areas. There was also a new field marked bright red that he hadn't put there, drawn in the same way he'd marked previous victim abductions, body locations and percentiles of probability.

"What's the new one?" he asked.

Limantour rose from behind his desk and moved around it to the map. "That's where Mitch Barron was spotted a good half hour ago in the backseat of a banged-up silver sedan."

"He's alive," Reid said, hope blossoming in his chest. "Is the witness reliable?"

"More than that, we only released a photo and minor details about him for the evening news. She gave a matching description of his sweater - blue-red stripes - which was not in the published information, since he left the house wearing a dark green jacket."

Reid looked closer at the map. "Rodtmatt Road. That's not good."

"There's a Migrol gas station there. Our witness arrived just as the guy got into the car and drove off. She said the station was deserted, nobody else but her nearby."

"Cameras -"

"The picture's far too bad to make anything out on it and the cashier didn't see him properly. At least we have body measures now, though he seems to be the most average guy I've ever seen."

"There is only a slim to none chance of the victim getting out alive when the perpetrator knows he's been spotted, never mind that the time period since his disappearance has passed twenty-four hours a good hour ago," Reid recited. "And there is more than a seventy percent chance he's headed straight for the highway."

"We figured that one out thanks to the map, though from what you've written in this profile of his, it should be unlikely?" Limantour gave him a sharp look. "We've men stationed at all driveways. No car's getting on a highway tonight without being thoroughly searched."

Reid raised his eyebrows.

"Don't get your hopes up, though," Limantour continued. "We can do that at this hour because there's hardly any traffic. Tomorrow at eight am, our blockades will break down under the rush. And once he hits the highway, we won't find him."

"And then, Mitch's dead." Reid's stomach contracted painfully. Not another one. "You have to keep the road blocks up as long as you can, even tomorrow, until we find him."

"That'll create chaos and panic." Limantour didn't seem convinced. "What if the - what do you call it? Unsub? What if he freaks? What if he thinks we're closing in on him? He'll get rid of the boy the most efficient way he can, which means -"

"- he won't break pattern," Reid insisted. "In over eighty percent of all cases, a sadistic killer like this keeps -

"You can quote statistics at me all you want, kid, but you can't bank on a boy's life with that. You can't know that."

"He's a highly-intelligent sadistic killer who is arrogant enough to torture and rape his victims, discard of the bodies in plain sight, but he's still careful enough to burn them just in case he left some evidence about his identity. He's confident. He'll think _we_ are the ones panicking. He'll become more confident, he'll try to wait it out in the city, watching us struggle with glee, he -"

"What if you're wrong? What if your - your profiling doesn't apply to this guy? What if your profile itself is wrong?"

"How often has that happened?" Reid asked, trying not to let the sting hurt too much. After all, they were valid questions.

"Once," Limantour replied like a shot. "In eleven cases.

"I got it wrong on my second case working with your people, that makes me better than a 9.09% fallacy rate!" Reid blurted, shocked.

"Reid - nobody's questioning your abilities, or god forbid, your knowledge. But this can't be the second miss of twelve, do you understand? If you're wrong, we'll have a city-wide panic on our hands, chaos on the streets, and this guy'll slip through our nets anyway. I'll be food for the fishes higher up in the food chain for making you a consultant and letting your unorthodox methods guide my decisions this much and the bosses will try to crush you as well, and I won't be able to protect you if that happens. I'll be blamed for this as the leader of this investigation, but you will, too."

Reid opened his mouth to protest, to point out that he was willing to take that risk, that he was a hundred percent sure he had it right - but the truth was, he wasn't. He knew that a single person could be too easily biased. He'd been working on this case for weeks. He couldn't be certain his point of view wasn't influenced by events, that he was being a hundred percent objective. A new set of eyes... His pride ached. All his baser instincts rebelled. He'd worked his ass off to get into the police in his current position without any real police training in itself, he'd bothered and squirrelled his way into cases, had read everything and anything he could get his hands on about the department, the country, Berne, the people, the police officers. This was his job, his life, seeing through guys like this killer, getting a step ahead of them, saving the victim before he or she could get hurt.

But there was that one tiny, not even full percent of doubt that he might have it wrong. He hesitated, and that was enough. For once, responsibility outweighted the impulsivity that had almost droven him to go all-out on this to prove himself. He didn't need to prove himself, his brain told him, if he got a second pair of eyes and it turned out he'd been right. If not, he'd have been wrong - but he'd have made the right decision to not be overconfident and do damage control before the damage could be done.

He was supposed to be _smart_, too, not only fact-strong with a great memory and the ability to read twenty-thousand words per minute. So he did the smart thing. Not everything was about him. He'd known that since he'd learned what paranoid schizophrenia was.

"I know someone," he said, fiddling with the little card in his breast pocket.

~*~

It took Morgan about as long to find his way into the station as it had taken Reid to convince Limantour of this turn of events. In the meantime, he'd caught his superior up on everything BAU, from their working force all over America, the private jet and big name agents to the 97% solving rate of serial killer crimes, 60% of which were secured without an additional victim loss after they'd been notified.

"How long since the kid was spotted?" was the first thing Morgan asked.

He was dressed in jeans and a tight shirt stretching across his chest, and yet he could have stood there in a suit, everything about him screamed 'professional at work'. He'd nodded at Reid in greeting upon spotting him, almost like they were old acquaintances instead of a one-time hook-up. There had been nothing of the heat of the previous night in his eyes. Reid had no idea where the disappointment was stemming from.

"Yves Limantour," Limantour introduced himself in English. "Leading inspector on this investigation. It's good to have you here."

"Derek Morgan. I was surprised when Reid called, to be honest. I didn't actually think - but whatever I can do to help."

Reid licked his lips. "I was surprised to hear you pick up. I thought you were leaving today or tomorrow."

"Cancelled the flight right after your call." The smile was back, and there was an interesting flicker in his eyes that vanished when he turned back to Limantour. "I'll stay as long as I'm needed, of course. Feel free to boss me around."

It was a phenomenon to see the ice break at a few simple, possibly well-chosen words. Reid found himself involuntarily amused. Morgan had to deal with a lot of liaising with local police officers, he had a feeling. Limantour didn't seem to notice. He just grinned a bit, then waved Danny over who had just exited the conference room.

"Everyone else ready to swarm out?"

Danny gave Morgan a quick, interested once-over before nodding. "They're not happy with the road block, but for tonight, it'll have to do. The others are searching the area around the gas station for clues."

"Good. This is Derek Morgan, an American FBI agent who has agreed to help us out as a second consultant to review Reid's conclusions." Limantour made a little gesture towards her. "Morgan, Daniela Breton."

"Call me Danny, everyone does." Reid rolled his eyes. Danny cuffed his arm and grinned. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Danny and Reid'll give you the details on the case. All of them," Limantour said in both their direction.

Danny's eyebrows went up. "Is that even legal?"

Limantour gave a grim smile. "It will be after I'm done with a couple folders' worth of documents. I'll be in my office working through them while you catch him up. There's no time to be lost. We need that assessment come sunrise, preferably in writing."

Morgan considered this, then he suddenly reached for his cell phone, surprising the heck out of everyone, including Reid. "Let me make a call," he proposed. "I might know a quicker way."

"Whatever could be quicker than a few stacks of paperwork and ringing more than one Langley official out of bed at this hour?" Limantour asked with a touch of self-irony.

Morgan grinned. Reid caught the tail-end of a flirty look, directed at his _boss_ \- who, okay, wasn't unattractive, but had to be at least fifty! Then he said, "It's actually just past 4 pm in Quantico."

"Right." Limantour shook his head.

Morgan speed-dialed.

"International Airport, how high do you want me to get you?" a woman's voice sounded from the other end.

"Hey, baby-girl," Morgan greeted, winking at Reid.

"Is he calling his girlfriend?" Danny whispered.

Reid winced.

"Hey, Garcia, can you not ask me questions for a second and help me out with something?"

"If you say 'please' very nicely? And none of that SM 'please' either, bad boy!"

"Do you know where Berne is?"

"Europe?" Garcia asked. "Possibly somewhere above Italy? Are we playing Jeopardy?"

Morgan snorted. "There's a case -"

"You're supposed to be on vacation, mister."

"You know, Garcia, evil never sleeps."

"Oh, Morgan, are you wearing your Batman costume?"

Danny let out a little giggle that made Reid unable to decide whether he should just crack up with laughter or thump her to make it stop.

"Berne police department, Garcia," Morgan said, more sternly now. "I need permission to consult on a case, officially, with all the access to data and background checks here at their department, access to their systems, and an approval seal from Langley if I write a profile in case they need to validate their decision, apparently. And I think it all needs clearance from the ambassador here in Switzerland, who might be at home sleeping in his bed right now."

"Hm-hm," Garcia said. There was typing. Reid glanced over at Limantour, who wasn't looking convinced. That alone made Reid hope Morgan knew what he was doing.

"How fast can you get all this for me?"

"Let's see..." There was more typing, then the girl let out a short, "Oh!"

"Garcia?"

"Got it. Aaaand, you're in luck, Section Chief Strauss is even in her office right now, checking her email -"

"- did you just hack into her computer?"

"Are you kidding me? I watch that stuff during breakfast. She loves to MySpace. Not to mention buy very, very depraved things off amazon, but let's not focus on that. I'll call you in - an hour?"

"Half an hour?" Morgan tested.

"Do I get a kiss-on-the-cheek when you get back if I do?"

"Sure, sugar lips."

"All right, then. Airport out."

Morgan clicked his cell shut. "Well, I think that was less work than the traditional route would have been?"

Reid closed his mouth.

~*~

They used the half hour to fill Morgan in on the details and provide him with print-outs of all the important information.

"Six boys, ages fifteen to eighteen, all vanished at night on the streets, all turned up a good week later dead, killed by strangulation, then burned to unrecognizable state. We were able to identify them by dental records or DNA," Danny said, laying out their names, photographs, crime scene photos before him. "It's all in their files."

"Public places." Morgan looked the files over quickly. "He leaves them out in the open where everyone can see. That's... arrogant. No signs of remorse, they're naked and exposed. There was nothing found near or on their bodies?"

Danny shook her head. "Nothing the crime scene guys found, anyway. The obduction just showed the things we already suspected, after keeping them in captive for a time span that long - torture, rape."

"What kind of torture?"

"Unclear. There were contusions to the flesh, cuts like from whips, the hands were badly damaged even beyond the attempt at cremation."

"Sexual and violent. Sadistic. Intelligent enough to keep his ass safe from accidental evidence -"

"- and from the police for over two months now," Reid added.

Morgan looked at him. There was a knowing smile on his face. "I take it you came to the same conclusion?"

"About," Reid shrugged.

Danny squinted. "There is a very strange vibe in this room," she concluded. "I'm going to get some coffee. Anyone want some?"

"Is it good coffee?" Morgan asked.

"Frightful," Reid warned him.

"Oh, does it matter. I'll take one if you don't mind getting it for me?"

"Do I get a kiss-on-the-cheek for that, too?" Danny grinned.

A slow grin unfolded across Morgan's face, lazy and sunny and burning hot. Reid bit his lip so hard he was scared for a second he'd drawn blood. She wasn't even good-looking or anything, barely average with funny ears and a bit chubby, but from the look Morgan was giving her, one might have thought she was the most attractive woman on the planet.

It seemed to make her glow, somehow, the burst of assurance, and she flicked her fingers at his forehead before she left, beaming.

Reid cleared his throat. "So the reason I called you is to get your assessment on the road block - you see Mitch, the seventh boy was spotted in the backseat of a car around ten pm and while his abduction fits the geographical profile I made - you have the printout over there - the spot, a gas station, indicates that he might be trying to get out of the city via highway. See, it leads right out and the moment the tip came in, all the highway drives were cut off by the police; cars are getting searched, but about forty-two percent of Berne's traffic leads out of the city around eight am in the morning, which makes it impossible for a road block unless we were to take into account jams and gridlocks, which might create a panic and -"

"Do you ever breathe?"

Reid swallowed. "What?"

"You seem to be able to ramble for a long time before you run out of air," Morgan commented. He seemed vaguely curious. "My intention was to let you until you had to take a couple breaths, which would have been my cue to jump into a conversation, but it was taking too long."

"Oh." Reid drew back. "Sorry."

"It's cute."

"What?"

"You don't have a hearing problem I don't know about, do you?"

"Do you flirt with everyone you see?"

Morgan considered. "Yes? Probably?"

"Why?"

After a moment of pause, Morgan tilted his head to the side. "Because it makes people happier, brighter and generally more confident. And confident people share."

"So it's an interrogation tactic?"

"No."

"But you just said -"

"It's a conversation tactic. Some people don't really trust to give too much away of themselves, even if they'd like to. I like to hear about other people's lives, that's all. It's interesting. People are more open if you make them feel attractive."

"I read a study for my dissertation about this effect, Snyder proved it by experimenting with phone conversations and attractivity ratings that correlated strongly with social skills -"

"Reid."

"You keep interrupting me in the middle of a sentence!" Reid said, annoyed.

Morgan blinked, taken aback. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay," Reid muttered. "Everyone does, anyway."

"Has it occurred to you that sometimes, when people talk to you, they might not want to hear random facts or statistics or probabilities but that they're trying to find out something about _you_?"

Before Reid could answer, the door opened and Danny came back in, carrying three mugs. "So..." she stopped for a second, giving them both very suspicious looks before she asked, "Anything else you want to know that's not in the files or Reid's oversized brain, Morgan?" She placed the mugs before Morgan, Reid and her own seat.

Reid frowned. "I didn't want -"

"Believe me," Danny pushed his mug back at him. "You'll need it tonight at some point."

"Thanks, then," he muttered.

"Road blocks," Morgan said. "And something about highways. I'll need to go over all this once more before I can say anything, I think. This is far too much information to catch up on in half an hour."

"Let's hope your girl can really get you all those permission slips, then, because if not, we're all screwed anyway," Reid commented.

Morgan gave him a sunny smile. "Has anyone ever told you that you're cute when you're jealous, pretty boy?"

"I knew it," Danny pointed. "I knew it! You totally made out while I was gone!"

Reid shook his head, horrified.

~*~

"She's not my girlfriend," Morgan told him about two hours later, when they were laid out in the whole room, exhausted but almost finished going through all the evidence and patterns and victimology and locations and witness statements for the last time.

Reid shrugged, looked away.

"Don't." The sharpness made him look up, eyes wide. Morgan didn't look flirtatious or amused or like he was fooling around. He looked really serious.

"It's none of my business," Reid said quickly.

"I'm a lot of things, a player, call me a slut even, but I'm not a cheater. We're best friends. I don't have steady partners."

"Ever?" Reid was proud his voice had no undertone, no trace of incredulity or surprise or, god forbid, hope. He was really grateful there was no hope there.

"I don't... it's not that easy," Morgan shrugged. "As you can see, working for the BAU's a full-time job with no other responsibility allowed. Hell, my poor dog, Clooney - stop smirking, bitch - it'd die by lack of affection if my neighbour didn't give it a cuddle now and then. I'm barely home as it is. This is the first time I've been on a proper vacation since... forever, actually. I saved up half a year of paid vacation time - I had to go all-out and take two months in order to get away because one week drags you back after a day. I mean, look at me, I had to flee to Europe so I wouldn't get on a plane that would bring me back to Quantico in two hours in case of emergency."

"Did you have withdrawal symptoms for the first couple days?" Reid teased gently.

Morgan chuckled. "Something like it." He smiled. "Hey, you've got a sense of humor after all."

"I'm not that bad."

"You're very... somber."

"Uptight, people call it where I'm from."

Morgan snorted. "See? It's not that hard to make other people laugh."

"Make _you_ laugh, you mean. You're easy."

"Ouch. That _stung_!"

The mockingly hurt expression made Reid join in the chuckles.

"How did you end up here?" Morgan asked when they'd sobered up again. He grabbed a file and started sorting it almost mechanically.

Reid was glad he wasn't looking up, wasn't watching Reid's expression. It always took him a second to reassemble his features after a reminder of what had driven him away from America in the first place. "I travelled the world for a while," he just said. "Finished my PhDs in the UK, a few jobs here and there to pay the bills." Gambling, mostly, but he had never told anyone that. He'd had to pay the bills back with his mom as well. It was much easier to make enough for himself and nobody else. He only realized after a while that the hugest chuck of his earnings back then had ended up at health insurance or in some doctor's pocket.

"Sounds good," Morgan commented. He was looking at Reid now, and there was a hint of wonder in his eyes. "So, how about I write up a report, sign all the documents Garcia sent over and get them back to her asap? Then we can call a small meeting for the few people who're most involved in the investigation and present our completed profile?"

"Is that what you guys do?" Reid smiled. "Present the profile like... like teachers in front of a class?"

Morgan walked over to him, tugged at a strand of hair falling into his face and nodded. "You scared of that?" he teased.

Reid didn't reply. They'd said no profiling each other. But it was all right, he thought. The teasing was... nice. Not mean. Not hurtful. Just... playful, like it was including him, and that wasn't something he'd ever experienced before. And the hand on his back when he turned said enough - he was almost sure, should he stumble over a word, Morgan'd be there to finish the sentence.

~*~


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

They all got a bit caught out by a surprising turn of events well after the designated part of the police had been given the initial profile and sent home, leaving Morgan with only Reid, Limantour and Danny in the conference room. It was, after all, past 2 am in the morning. There was a night shift, but most of the officers manning it were out on patrol, or pulling over cars heading for the highway to search them.

"So we keep the roadblocks and car searches until we catch the guy?" Danny sparked off the discussion, still confused about the _practical_ applications of the profile. They knew the type of person they were looking for now, yes, but it wasn't like one could see the sadistic streak on a person's face, most of the time.

"Yes," Reid said, while Morgan said, "Not necessarily." They surprised each other and everyone else with that little discrepancy, too.

Limantour rolled his eyes at them, then picked up his jacket and shrugged into it. "If there's nothing more here to do tonight, I'm going home to catch a few hours of sleep. Call me once you two have come to an agreement; I want that in writing and possibly signed off by your -" he gave Morgan, who was sitting down on one of the chairs, a pointed look, "senior officer. I don't care, I just want to have my ass covered here. I'm sure you understand. I'm tired, I've been on my feet over thirty-six hours, and if you want my brain functioning properly, you won't call me until 6am - otherwise, only if there's something very, very important going on."

"Actually, Sir, excellent brain function doesn't necessarily derive from sleep, there have been tests done that show that while attention span shortens, efficiency doesn't suffer despite lack of sleep in a time frame as great as multiple weeks -"

Morgan coughed. Limantour just smiled wryly, turned around and walked out without another word. Danny snorted. "I don't think it was _brain efficiency_, he was worried about, Reid," she commented.

"What? But he said -"

She walked past him, had to reach up to ruffle his hair, then waved her fingers over her head on her way out. "Work the problem out amongst yourselves. I'm not going to wait around to listen to you argue." She muttered something else about having better things to do, but she was out of hearing range by then.

"Who's she got waiting for her?" Morgan asked curiously.

"What?"

"Limantour wanted to get home for a few hours to spend some time with his family. Even if it's this late, it's still possible. Case like this, he must have not seen them for a while."

"Yeah, he's got a son, I think." Reid shrugged. "Danny... has a couple cats? I'm not sure about anyone else."

"Cat-person, huh?" Morgan grinned. "That figured."

"What's wrong with being a cat-person? I'm a cat-person!"

"Oh, you're as far from a cat-person as I've ever seen," Morgan disagreed, heartily enjoying it too.

Reid huffed. "I love cats!"

"Ever owned one?"

"Well, no, but -"

"- you love to pet one for five minutes before giving it back," Morgan ended his sentence, leaning back in his seat. "You'd hate owning a cat. Believe me. Don't even try. The poor thing would sooner scratch your eyes out."

"Didn't we say no profiling each other?"

Morgan frowned. "I remember that."

"So - why do you want to remove the police from the highways?"

Mentally switching gears seemed not to be something Morgan was able to do quite as fast as Reid, which was... comforting. It wasn't that Reid was worried, but it ached to have someone there who was able to do the same things he could, and possibly even a little better. Nothing had ever grated as much as that you couldn't acquire experiences faster than it took to make them. It was stupid, but there it was. Envy sucked.

Morgan seemed to realize something was going on because he hesitated, but then he just answered the question. "I think it's possible the unsub didn't want to make for the highway in the first place. I think he might just have his base set up somewhere near that gas station. People often refuel at the station that's closest, or their favourite, or both - especially when they're in their home city. Of course, out of it, somewhere on the road, that's different, but if he gets around by car, he'll have his habitual station nearby."

"The fact that he even used his car to drive Mitch around in it, though -"

"Just shows that he moved the victim. Possibly he was thinking the police was getting to close to the place he's always hidden his victims away? We'll need to go over the search warrants again, check the last few places. I've seen that map in Limantour's office, by the way. That's pretty accurate."

"Berne's not so big," Reid shrugged. "It would have to be."

"But if he wanted to get out of town via highway, he'd have to admit he's on the run from the police, and I don't think he wants that. I think he needs to convince himself he's still in control of the situation and that moving the victim - or driving him around in his car, whatever the reason - is part of the original plan."

"What if he always carts his victims out of town to torture them?"

"And get their bodies back into town later? No, too risky. He's shown that he's really careful about everything that could lead to getting caught. Driving around with a missing person that's been announced on nation-wide TV and who everyone's on the lookout for - or even worse, with a burned-up body? It's too dangerous. Imagine he got pulled over by chance."

"All right."

"What?"

"I - I think that's logical."

Morgan blinked, then gave him a small smile. "Would you believe me if I said I was expecting more... resistance?"

Reid shrugged. "Why?"

"You seem very confident in your opinions or deductions, that's all."

"I am. I'm still not a hundred percent on the theory that he's not leaving town. But I think you're also right that the risk in doing so, especially with a victim in the back, is maybe a greater risk than this particular guy will want to take."

"How about we make it a compromise. Danny put in some traffic reports from the city here somewhere, I don't remember what they said, but -"

"I do," Reid quickly said. "I mean..." he could feel himself flush. "If you tell me the passage you're looking for, I could -"

"Really?" Morgan looked astonished, before giving him an eyeroll. "Well, no wonder you're a walking encyclopedia, if you can remember everything you read. That's a neat ability to have."

"You think so?"

"Not in the moments you quote whole paragraphs at me out of strange books, no, but think of all the fun things you can do with that! Memorize every funny joke ever invented, mutter erotica-passages in the most inopportune moments along with author and title, learn all kinds of statistics - no, wait, you already did that last."

"Funny," Reid muttered. "Really funny."

Morgan touched his thigh when Reid leaned back against the table, warmth in his gaze. "It's really a nice thing, Reid. And I didn't want any specific passage, but thank you for offering. I just wanted to say that we can check the density of traffic, assign police officers accordingly by number to look for that silver sedan and skim cars, letting through two or three cars at a time at some junction. No thorough searches, unfortunately, but maybe until then, we'll have a picture of the guy and his car brand or plate."

"What?" Reid tried to ignore the warmth of Morgan's hand on his thigh as he slid up and onto the table to sit more comfortably instead of just leaning against it. "How do you want to get a picture of him?"

"The gas station? If I'm not mistaken, European stations have cameras too? It would be imprudent not to have at least one."

"Well, there was one, sure, but Limantour said they tried to get picture and it was far too blurred and grainy to get a proper enhancement. Not to mention the guy was wearing a cape. Or hoodie, or something."

"Do you know how to get in touch with the technicians in this place who have the video? Garcia might be able to do something with it."

"Is she your technical analyst then? Back at the BAU?"

"Yes." Morgan smiled languidly. "She's brilliant. If someone can get a picture off that video, it's her."

"You really like her, huh?"

Morgan looked up at that, and his eyes were suddenly hooded. "Sure," he shrugged. "Great girl."

"How long will it take her?"

"Few hours, probably. She's fast, but a lot of software isn't. Why?"

Reid swallowed, but plummeted on, never considering, just storming ahead, screw the consequences. Most of the time, that was a very bad idea, but most of the time, it also turned out not to be a complete disaster, in the end. "I was thinking of going home too, at least until sunrise." He pressed his lips together, swallowed again. "You could come."

Morgan opened his mouth. Closed it, opened it again. His expression changed so rapidly between emotions that Reid couldn't have hoped to read any of them, never mind understand what they meant. "I think that might be the least smart idea I've heard from you all night," he finally said. When Reid wanted to protest, he held up his hand and hurried on, "It's not that I don't want to, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea. This doesn't change anything, you know that, right? I've still got to get back to the US after the guy's caught, be it tomorrow or in a week. I'm willing to stick it out - for the _case_."

Not for you, was what Reid heard. His stomach was somewhere in his throat taking up residence. Morgan was right, of course. Completely right, and Reid'd been starting to get attached and goddamnit, why couldn't anything be ever easy? But getting attached - getting hurt, afterwards - wasn't a crime. As long as he had no illusions. And he could take the pain, always had. It wasn't a new pain, it was an old friend almost.

"I don't care," he heard himself say. "I'd like to, anyway. If you want to." He didn't even sound like himself, not to his own ears.

But he must have to Morgan, because there was a strangely vulnerable light in his eyes when he stood up from his seat and stepped between Reid's legs, pushing them apart before he leaned down, caressing Reid's jaw as he kissed him.

~*~

With Morgan's car, it was a barely ten-minutes drive in companionable silence before they entered the house. Reid thought it was a bit funny that they didn't stumble in, full-on passionate embrace, with maybe already pants halfway down their thighs. But they weren't like that, and that pleased him, in a strange, upside down kind of way. Instead, Morgan was careful, hand on Reid's lower back when Reid unlocked the door and kissed his ear softly when they took the stairs up into the apartment, breathing over his neck, fingers tightening on his hips.

Of course, then, he caught Reid out against the wall and that was fine, too. His kiss was harder, more demanding in a way, almost like he wasn't afraid anymore Reid could break, and that was even better. Reid wasn't easily breakable, nor was he made of china. He was steely backbone and old, chewy shoeleather, if anything. The metaphor got lost though in the jungle that was fantasy and elation when Morgan's leg pressed between his own, making him gasp.

Pleasure circulated through his body, hips bucking up against Morgan's when Morgan dove into his mouth, and then let Reid again, let him push and prod and fight back; in the meantime, he busied his fingers, unbuttoning Reid's pants, his shirt, fingerpads touching the skin of his belly, running up and down his sides.

"You're always cold," he whispered before he licked at Reid's earshell, holding his hips still as he rocked up and into him.

Reid kept in a whimper by pure strength of will alone and waited for the shot of heat down his spine to recede before he replied, "I'm not gonna call you hot."

Morgan grinned, Reid could feel it against his cheek, and licked over his temple, kissed his nose. Their groins were snug, fitting, and he could feel the hot outline of Morgan's erection pressing into his own. He needed Morgan to _move_, needed him to create some goddamn _friction_ there, like last night when there'd been hands and mouth and -

There was a soft click of a door, and oh. Jan was home. He could feel his face flame, then remembered that Vera had been here for a reason which meant he had his girlfriend here, which meant -

He had no idea what that meant. Except that Morgan was back at his mouth, biting into his lower lip while his hand vanished into Reid's underwear, grasping his cock firm and tight and very, very distracting. Reid gave a tiny groan and said, "Move - please, please -"

"Move?" Morgan asked. Let go of Reid's lip and sucked at the delicate skin of his neck instead before adding, "you mean my hand? Like that?" And he jerked, twice, before flicking his thumb over the head, making Reid _jump_ against his body.

"To - to the bedroom. Morgan. Morgan, if you don't -"

Morgan muttered something that sounded like, "Didn't we say up the wall this time?" But he couldn't be sure and Morgan slowly pulled off him, ungluing their bodies from the fit.

"Bed," Reid mumbled. And almost stumbled over his pants that had landed on the floor. "Shit."

"Clothes off?" Morgan proposed.

"Yes. Yes, very much."

They did take off their clothes, all of them, before they fell into the bed. Morgan curled up on his side, pulling Reid up close, and grasped his ass to grind their hips back together. His mouth was hot on Reid's neck, and then on his collarbone, tongue flicking out to taste the skin there, making Reid writhe against the sheets. Reid bit down on a moan and tried to get more contact, more resistance against his dick. That was why, for a second, when Morgan pushed against his shoulder, he resisted, wanting nothing more than to stay pressed together to rub up against him; but then he let go, rolled over like Morgan wanted him to, onto his other side, and Morgan closed the space, snug his chest against Reid's back, cock nudging against his buttocks. Reid turned his head and Morgan kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Okay?" he asked. His hand was on Reid's stomach, thumb wandering in circles, before it dipped down to take him into his hand, tugging a few times, relieving the pressure that had been building up.

"Fine," Reid coughed out, reached back, ran his palm down Morgan's thigh and felt his heart stutter when Morgan got it, caught his mouth more forcefully and flickered his tongue between his lips, deepening the kiss.

He hadn't thrown away the lube Morgan'd brought the last night. It was still lying on the little bedside table, which was where Reid grabbed it when Morgan stopped kissing.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Reid said decisively. It had hurt the night before, but then, it had stopped hurting and set something off in him. He wanted that feeling again, he found, a little surprised at himself. He wanted Morgan inside him again. Wanted to feel that, to have that again. And Morgan was rocking against his ass and against the small of his back, big and hard and waiting for the go-ahead.

"Yes," he repeated. He was sure.

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Garcia called around 6 on Morgan's cell, waking them up still in bed. There was something heavy on his chest that Reid soon figured out was Morgan's arm. He was lying on his back - not his favourite position - with Morgan curled up against his side, pressing close. The sheets were up, but Reid could feel Morgan's naked skin cling to his own, sticky from hours before.

Morgan yawned. "What's going on?" he asked before kissing Reid's neck and moving off to sit up.

"Cell," Reid muttered. "Must be yours. Where've you got it?"

"Jeans pocket."

It gave two more rings before Morgan flipped it open. "Yeah?"

"Morgan? Garcia here. Listen, get your perky butt somewhere that has a laptop and a fax, preferably to the police station you're working at, and do it as fast as you can. I have some thrilling news."

"Half an hour?" Morgan glanced at Reid. Reid nodded. "I'll be there in half an hour, I'll call you once we're there. We can put up a conference call then."

"Great. Hurry, though, this is important."

Morgan shut the cell on her overly enthusiastic good-byes.

"Did she just call your... I mean - _perky_?" Reid grinned.

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Garcia. Shower now, then we set off?"

Reid's grin widened. "Sure. It's big enough for us both, we can save time."

There was a surprised look on Morgan's face.

"What?" Reid asked, defensive. "I'm being adventurous."

"I wasn't doubting your sense of adventure, more your definition of time-saving, that's all," Morgan quipped, smiling.

Unlike Reid, he had no problem walking through the apartment naked - with a body like his, Reid figured he might have wanted to show it off as often as he could too - and they did end up under the spray in a matter of a minute. It didn't take long, soaping and fooling around, until Morgan had Reid's back flush against the tiles, kissing him open-mouthed as the water ran down their bodies.

Reid let his hands wander up and down Morgan's back, over his spine, down his hips, fingertips sliding over his ass, touching the skin at the very bottom of his tailbone, and further. He kissed back fervously, loving the feeling of Morgan's tongue against his own - and then Morgan's hand suddenly left the tiles by Reid's head and grasped his wrist instead, holding it in a vise-like grip that almost hurt.

"What -?"

"Don't." Morgan gave him a sharp look.

"But -"

"Just don't, please. Just let me -" Probably feeling Reid's hands go slack, he also loosened his own grip, but he led Reid's hands back up front, placed them safely on his hips. "Okay?"

Reid frowned. "But I thought -"

"Reid. Let it go."

"Fine." Morgan's shoulders relaxed, then tensed again when instead of staying, Reid pulled away completely, so far that they weren't touching any longer, and quickly finished rinsing off the last bits of bubbles from his skin. Then he got out of the shower, stepping onto the dry little mat at his feet.

"Reid," Morgan said.

"It's fine." He grabbed a towel, dried off with a few hasty, rather jerky motions and grabbed his clothes. Screw it, Jan wouldn't be up at this hour and no one else was around. Morgan'd seen him naked often enough by now anyway. The bundle in his arms up front, he made for the door.

Morgan sighed. The water was still running. When Reid glanced up, he looked lost. "Reid, I'm sorry -"

"Finish your shower, we need to get going or we'll be late. I'll put on some coffee." He sounded pretty cutting even to his own ears, but he couldn't help it. He was confused and a bit hurt and he had no idea what he'd done wrong. Maybe nothing. It was better to make coffee and get back to the crime.

~*~

Of course, it was never that easy, but Reid really tried.

"Nice car," he commented when the silence got deafening after two long minutes of listening to the wheels turn. "Where did you get it?"

"Car rental down the street from the hotel. Listen, Reid -"

"Wouldn't have thought you'd like French cars. Did you get to pick one or did they just give you one in your price category? I heard they have this really funny system here about renting out cars, where you give a category and you can't pick and choose but have to take the one that's available. I guess that's logical though when it's a smaller rental, they must not have many doubles -" Morgan cut a corner and braked so hard Reid was thrown into his seatbelt, yelping in shock.

"Sorry," Morgan muttered. "Didn't think the turn was that sharp."

There was another silence. Reid swallowed. "So you don't - you know. Ever?"

"No."

"But, I mean, you've never even -"

"I don't bottom."

"But - why?"

"Because."

It wasn't that he was completely unfamiliar with the concept of some guys not - he'd thought he wouldn't ever either, until recently, but he hadn't had a problem accepting it and finally really enjoying it. It was kind of great, when you got past the initial inhibitions. And Morgan'd had sex with him, so it couldn't be because he thought it was disgusting... could it? Reid felt a surge of shame rush through him, a left-over from the socially induced stain that went with it. It very quickly burned up in a flame of hot anger. "Too much of a manly guy, are you, to do that?" he muttered, bitingly sarcastic. "Just so you know, I'm not weak or - or disgusting just because I let you do that -"

"No," Morgan snapped. He looked angry too, though not at Reid. "It's not that."

Reid looked away. "What else is it, then?" He had a strange feeling in his stomach, like he half-knew already, like he'd known for a while now but hadn't been able to let it sink in. He just... wanted to hear it from Morgan.

"I just can't, all right?" Morgan said. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But -"

"I _don't_ want to talk about it. Not with anyone, not with you." Morgan gave him an impatient look and parked the car in front of the police building with a perfectly executed curve into the empty parking spot. He killed the engine, took out the keys and unbuckled his belt. "We don't even know each other past a few hours in bed and out of it for a case. Just let it go, please. And don't fucking profile me."

For a second, Reid tried to make sense of the words through the sudden painful burst in his chest area, because the tone of voice cut like a dagger, and by the time he'd gotten them figured out, Morgan was already out of the car. Reid followed hastily, caught up with Morgan by the entrance.

He grabbed the handle before Morgan could and kept his hand on it, barring Morgan the entry, if only for a second. "Is that why this case, then?" he asked, forcing his voice steady and calm. He wasn't giving up. He never did.

Morgan didn't answer, he just looked straight ahead until Reid let go and pushed the door open so they could enter. And in a way, it was answer enough so that Morgan didn't even need to acknowlege the question in the first place.

~*~

Garcia looked excited over the vid-phone. "It's nice to see you again, gorgeous," she greeted Morgan, grinning from ear to ear.

"Same here, sweet cheeks. What's up? Why're you still up at this hour?"

"I got the footage from the station from your analytical team?" Garcia said, pointing at something on her screen before her. "I've sent over what I could do with it to the number you gave me. We worked a bit together and managed to enhance the quality, and found an acceptable shot. Nothing frontal, but a side shot of his face."

Morgan glanced over to Reid. "Could you get -?"

"Yes, of course." Reid hurried away.

"What about the car?" Morgan asked, turning back to the computer.

"I got a few numbers off the license plate, but not enough to get a single match, and I could have guessed on one or two, but I chose to go with only the ones I was absolutely certain about - however, bow down before me, I have narrowed it to four different silver sedans with the second number 2 and the last number 9 in Berne. I'm sending you a list of the people and their addresses as well as occupations and CVs, everything on them I could find. The Swiss database is a mystery even to me, which is not that big a surprise, considering." She grinned. "But they do have good people, whatever I may think of the size of their city. We worked it out."

"Thanks, babe," Morgan said. "Hey, how's our team doing without me?"

"We're fine," Garcia assured him, eyes twinkling. "Of course, your expertise is sorely missed, and Emily's been complaining about no longer having her stallion around to protect her -"

Morgan snorted. "You're making that up."

"Of course, I am." Garcia grinned. "The only one Emily talks about like that is JJ, you know that."

"Funny."

"Who's the boy, by the way? Are you holding out on me, man-friend? I saw you look at his ass when he walked out, what's going on -?"

"Sorry, Garcia, I gotta go," Morgan laughed and cut off the connection.

It wasn't a long wait until Reid returned with Danny on his heels. She had dark bags under her eyes and looked like she'd just woken up a minute ago. There was a cup of coffee in her hand. "Hey guys," she greeted them. "'s anyone rung L out of bed yet?"

"He's going to need to see this," Reid agreed. He was holding a few print-outs. "Garcia sent over the image the team and her caught and enhanced, it looks good. Not perfect, but it was the best they could do with the blurry picture. There's also a list of possible suspects with addresses - an auto-mechanic, a school teacher - I don't think we can afford to skip the women, they could have husbands or sons or other male relatives or friends borrowing their car?"

"You have addresses?" Danny asked, sipping her coffee.

Reid handed her the list.

"This is brilliant. I have the search warrants and locations where we have surveillance and police force stationed, especially marked the ones that were made public knowledge. If I cross-reference them with that and your geographical profile, we might get a hit on the location, at least." Danny waved the papers and set off.

"Well, that's a lead," Morgan said.

"What are we doing to do about the image of the guy?" Reid held it up. "It's good enough for people who know him to identify him, I think. But if we make it public -"

"- the unsub'll see it too, panic, knowing that we're on to him, and kill the boy he's holding."

"We can always start distributing it amongst the police force, maybe someone has seen him wandering around by the crime scenes or the locations where the bodies were left. These types of killers tend to hang around to watch, don't they?"

"Let's do that. We could get a sketch of a frontal from that and try to track down his name. There's apparently no picture of him in the database, or Garcia'd have found it."

Half an hour later, Reid was in the middle of sending the picture to the cellphones of all police officers in the field and printing flyers for everyone who might need something on paper with the guy's face on it when Danny came back to the conference room, Limantour in tow.

"We've got a location," she said. "There's a warehouse out by Simmond Street in the east sector of the city, we searched the area because one of the latest victims disappeared from a bus station there, and we checked the warehouse, but we didn't have a warrant for the houses nearby. We should go look for the one with a silver sedan up front and knock, I think."

Morgan jumped up from his seat next to Reid, who was listening and typing at the same time, and nodded. "I'm coming with you."

That made Reid look up. "Hey, that's not fair. Why does he get to go but I never get to -"

"Because you have no training and no weapons permit," Danny snapped. "Reid, you're a consultant, not part of the team that hauls killers and sadists in. It's too dangerous."

"He's a consultant, too," Reid nodded at Morgan.

"But I'm a consultant who's got a black belt in Judo and runs some FBI self-defence classes." Morgan gave him a look.

Reid looked away. "Fine," he said. "I'll finish this."

Limantour, who'd watched the discussion unfold, frowned. "We should get going. Reid, monitor the responses about the image of the killer. If someone has some viable information, call any one of us. You two, come on. Danny, rig Morgan, I'll go request some backup."

~*~

Reid started to impatiently tap his desk with his fingers when twenty minutes had passed and there was still no useful information on his hands he could contact the team with. He'd gotten multiple responses with people assuring him they had not seen the man, and a few telling him thanks and that they'd keep looking for anything suspicious. None of the highway police officers could give him any specifics, but all the silver sedans that had driven by had apparently passed scrutiny.

He didn't even want to work at this police station full time. He was content working the PI track with Jan, even though he hadn't had much opportunity to lately, with this case hanging over his head, demanding all his attention. But he was still confrontational about it and he knew himself, he knew he'd rather be in the field any day than sitting in the office. He wanted to help, to change things, see them change before his eyes, not get the second-hand information later. He wanted to act, not just sit on the sidelines and look on.

His inbox pinged. Another message. Reid sighed, leaned forward and opened it, then froze.

_Officer Webber here. Know suspect. Call for detailed information ASAP, can't get hold of Limantour, he may have no service._

Reid half-stumbled to the phone in his haste and hit the connection number, letting himself be put through to Webber. "Reid here, I'm coordinating the information exchange about the image of the ubsub?" he reported. "What can you tell me about him?"

"His name's Brand. Peter Brand. I interviewed his wife that day when the Adam kid vanished from the bus station in the east sector, not far off Leafegg Street, and again when our latest victim went missing, just to be sure I didn't miss anything. I saw a picture of him in the house, it's definitely him."

"Thank you so much," Reid said, at the same time looking through the car data Garcia had searched and found the record almost immediately. It was the house Morgan and the others had gone to, so that was good, but he had a feeling something still wasn't right about this. It was too close, he then realized. Back at the computer, he called up a map. He would have had to be desperate to kidnap a kid that close to home, and he couldn't have been, and according to the profile he would never have taken the risk unless...

Before Reid could finish the thought, another police officer entered the room. She was pale and run haggard and when she spotted him, she waved him over. "Reid, right?" she asked.

"Yeah. What's going on?"

"Turn on the TV. The photo's been leaked. The press is all over it."

"What?" Reid stared, then grabbed the remote and switched the screen on.

"_Anyone who has any information about this man, please contact our station under the number now visible on screen so we can pass it on to the police team in charge of the murder case -_"

"Shit," Reid said. "This is bad."

"Is there something we can do about it?" she asked. She was young and she must have been new, because she looked fairly scared. As she should, because this was really, really bad, especially if Brand had already seen this.

"I don't think _we_ can do much, at this point," Reid said. "Limantour is on his way to the guy's house with a team, let's hope they get him. And try to get someone on it so they pull this from the broadcast? I think that'd be most helpful."

"I'll check, I think someone's already working on it. See you."

When she'd left, Reid had the computer establish a video conference to one of the technical analysts in the building. An older Asian man appeared on the screen whom Reid hadn't met or even seen before around the station. "Listen, I need some information, can you check something for me?" he asked.

The man smiled. "That's what we're here for."

"Okay good. Uhm, so, The name is Peter Brand, he lives with his wife in Leafegg Street. Can you tell me if there are any other estates or properties he owns, or that are his wives' properties, his parents' or any relations to him that might have either? Does he have access to any other houses, even warehouses, or just basements, those kinds of things -" while Reid talked, the guy had already started typing.

"There is an old house in the north ring by the tracks that belonged to his brother that hasn't been processed yet since the brothers' death. It's probably going to be written over to him when all official records are dealt with," he said. "I can't see anything else -"

"No, that's perfect, I think that might be it," Reid said, excited.

"I'll write you down the address," the man nodded. "Good luck with it."

Reid printed it and jumped up, mind set on getting there before he realized he would almost have forgotten what he'd been assigned to do. He rang Limantour, then Morgan and even Danny or the other police officers they'd taken as back-up, but the service was out. He cursed, then said screw it and hastened out of the conference room and towards the main hall.

~*~

Equipped with nothing much more than his cell phone, with which he tried to call the others again, he hopped on the bus towards the north ring and the train station nearby. He knew how to be careful and not get noticed, but if the boy was there and he could get him out, that would have been worth it. He didn't need a gun for that, and he wasn't planning on confronting the unsub anyway, he just wanted to get Mitch out of there and into safety.

It was a fifteen minutes drive with the bus from the police station, during which he made calls every minute, trying to get someone on the phone. Finally, just after he'd exited the bus, Morgan picked up.

"Reid? What's going on?"

"I've been trying to call you for half an hour!" Reid said. He found the road and started walking faster. He had a good idea which one of the houses he could see from his position was the one he was looking for.

"Must have been a dead zone," Morgan commented. "We talked to the wife of a guy, Brand, she said he's been acting weird lately, vanishing, spending days in the basement - they have a silver sedan and we asked if we could come in and search the house. Smart woman, she seemed really scared. She let us in, the basement was filled with some revolting torture devices. We've definitely got our guy. But he wasn't home, wife said he'd left maybe ten minutes before we arrived. Neither was the boy -"

"- that's what I've been trying to call about!" Reid interrupted. "Look, I know it's Brand, and I let an analyst give me property records, there's a house." He rambled off the address. "It was his brother's. It's fairly secluded from the other houses in the area, apparently it's an older construction, which means solid, possibly sound proof, big, nobody goes there anymore since the brother's dead and there's no other family."

"We're going there immediately," Morgan agreed. "Stay at - wait. Reid, how do you know what the house looks like. Shit, Reid, stay where you are. Do not go in the house. Reid, don't you _dare_ -"

Reid disconnected the call and turned off the cell phone. He'd wanted to tell Morgan about the news-break from before, but now, there was no time. He was right in front of the gate leading into a front garden, with the house towering before him. There was no silver sedan around, neither parking on the street nor, as far as he could see, anywhere within the gate. Morgan would need at least ten minutes to get here from Brand's house, and that only if he drove like a madman, with sirens howling. In the meantime, who knew what would happen if the guy returned. Who knew what he'd do to the boy. Most probably kill him. He was a liability now, after all.

Reid had to go in, there was no time to lose. The gate was open, so he pushed at the door and it gave. Slipping through, he hurried behind one of the huge, overgrown bushes lining the garden path and checked all the windows to the front for movement. There was none. He couldn't see anyone looking out the windows either, so he figured he was fairly safe to cross the garden and try the doors, both front and, if he couldn't open that one, the back door. Those usually had locks he could pick.

His heart was beating hard and fast, and his breathing was shallow, but he wasn't too scared. He could do this, and it really couldn't wait. He had to be in and out of there with the boy before Brand came home. He just hoped that wouldn't happen before Morgan arrived.

~*~


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The backdoor squeaked when Reid nudged it open. He'd been right, the lock'd been easy to pick. And it hadn't been secured with chains which was not a good sign. The hallway was empty and Reid snuck up to the first door on his right, listening for any signs of life before he pushed the handle down.

It was a walk-in closet and it reeked of something offensively unpleasant. Reid was fairly sure the smell came from behind the multitude of coats, so he quickly closed it again and moved on towards the next door. He found nothing interesting in the next two rooms before he arrived at the end of the hallway. He kept listening for voices but past the house creaking around him, there was nothing. The floor beneath his feet was solid and his footsteps made hardly any sounds.

The stairs there led either up or down and Reid chose to look in the basement first, since torturing killers tended to use those to keep their victims imprisoned. Most were compact, hard to get out of because the doors were usually massive, and they were sound-proof, even though Reid doubted any soundwaves were actually able to leave this house.

It was dark downstairs, so he took out his cell phone, turned it back on and illuminated the space right before him to at least see what was in front of his feet. He felt a spike of guilt when he read that he had 43 missed calls, but he had more important things to worry about right now.

He was in a big room, filled with chairs and tables and closets and cupboards, and other stranger pieces of furniture, so he assumed it was storage space. Looking for the light switch soon found it to his left and the room was flooded with light. It was empty save for the furniture and a few randomly left boxes labelled "old clothes" or "christmas decorations".

There was no door either, and when he walked around, he saw the most sign of any life in here was that it was filled with cobwebs, so there were probably spiders and even a few ratmarks, though the rats had fled when he'd turned on the lights. Nobody had used it for a while, and the only footprints in the dust were his own. Reid felt his stomach contract and hoped that it wasn't the wrong place after all. He hoped the guy didn't have some cabin in the woods outside of Berne after all and had brought Mitch there, and they'd never find him alive.

But there was still the second floor and the attic, if this house had a habitable one. He made his way back up the stairs, listened to footsteps, in case Brand had come back already, but there was still silence. He couldn't hear anything from outside, not even cars driving by. The stairs were less solid than the floor had been, and he tried not to make too much noise going up, where he found himself in a hallway again. There were more doors to his left and right this time. Two bedrooms which were nicely decorated but empty, a bathroom and a kitchen with a double-glass door leading to what Reid thought had to be the living and dining room at the far end of the hallway.

It was then he heard the first sound, a little groan of someone in deep pain, and tiny, broken sobs that echoed more like the gurrs of a bird than real human sounds. His chest tightened and he looked around the kitchen for some kind of weapon in case he'd need it. He found a big meat knife, slid it out of the knife block and slowly pushed the door open, inch by inch to look into the room.

It was a scene right out of a horror movie and Reid had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second before he had himself back under control. The room was laid out with strange instruments, a table which held shackles and handcuffs and - Reid's stomach turned and he looked away. Looked away and instead skimmed all four corners of the room and every spot that was partly hidden from his sight to see if anyone else was in the room beside the boy cuffed to one of the metal bars installed in the wall, curled into himself, naked and bleeding onto the huge plastic blanket he was lying on. There was nobody. They were still alone.

Reid pushed the door open completely, slid through and hurried to the boy's side, ignoring everything that wasn't the rise and fall of his chest. He should have gotten a coat or something from one of the rooms, he realized a second later, because aside from the shivering pain, Mitch's skin was also deadly cold. He was breathing, however, and while his eyes didn't even follow Reid's motions he was so out of it, he seemed at least half-way conscious and would probably be able to walk with a whole lot of help.

"Mitch," Reid muttered. "Can you hear me? Do you know where he puts the keys? I'm here to get you out, but you have to help -"

The boy didn't react. He just whimpered and curled up more.

"Shit," Reid swore. He'd have to look. This was all taking way too much time and why wasn't Morgan here yet? Or Danny, or anyone, really? A glance at his watch told him it had been eight minutes. When a superficial search for the key gave no results, Reid swore again and instead tackled the problem like he should have from the start. He took out the steel hairpin he always took with him and picked it. As the cuffs were the ones you bought in a sex-shop rather than government issued ones, he had luck and they snapped open surprisingly fast.

Mitch keeled over, right into him. His torso'd been held up by the cuffs alone. His back was streaked with whip-marks and bruises, his hands were a complete mess, which meant he wouldn't be able to hold on to Reid by himself, and there was blood all over his legs, between his legs, down his thighs - Reid bit his lip and propped him back up. His eyes were still open, glazed, but his body was slack.

But, on the plus-side, Reid had apparently not only underestimated Mitch's strenght, he'd also thought he would be... bigger. He didn't look fifteen at all, he seemed tiny, and he was thin, all things that made him look a lot less heavy than he'd appeared at first. With a jump to his feet, Reid raced back to the bedrooms to get a sheet to wrap the boy up in it. He had to be fast, that was all that counted. He should manage to carry him for a few feet at a time. If he had a few more minutes...

Grabbing the sheet, he ran back towards the kitchen - and that's when he heard it. His heart jumped. Steps downstairs, heavy boots in the hallway, step after step closer to the stairs and Reid's mind raced. What could he do, he needed to protect the boy, that was the most important thing, but he couldn't just throw himself at the guy either. And he'd left the knife in the room with the boy who... had shaken off the glaze a bit and apparently crawled the inches to the knife, gripping it in what was left of his fingers. It was already bloody, but chances were, by the time Brand was past Reid, Mitch might have enough strength to at least hold him off with the knife until Morgan and the other arrived.

Reid grabbed the smaller knife from the block, slid into the living room, pulled the glass doors shut in the _last_ instance before he saw the shadow enter the kitchen. He stepped into the corner to the right of the door, hoping for a surprise attack, which would be his best change to do some damage. His heart was beating so hard, Brand had to hear it even in the kitchen, and he had to hold his breath so it wouldn't give him away.

The shadow had stopped. In the kitchen. Reid cursed inwardly. Shit. He should have searched the drawers for less auspicious knives. Shit, shit, shit. And he was still holding the stupid sheet, which would be one hell of a hindrance unless...

The door opened slowly. It also opened outwards, which meant at least for a few seconds, Reid would be hidden behind it, and then Brand threw it open, must have seen Mitch lying there, freed, which was when Reid jumped. He threw the sheet over the man - who was taller than Reid had expected, and also looked a lot stronger... and it gave him one precious second to attack with his knife and spear Brand's back with it before Brand managed to throw Reid off, growling with anger and pain.

"You!" he shouted. His face was... average. It was the face Reid had already seen on the image the Garcia girl had been able to enhance, it was the face of the driver's licence and ID card Garcia had sent over - the owner of one of the silver sedans - and yet it looked a lot more malicious and horrible than it had on any of those pictures.

Also, his knife was sticking out of the man's back and it _hadn't taken him down_. Reid was aware that he was slowly starting to panic. This was very much not good. He should have taken two. He really, really should have brought the big one with him instead of forgetting it by Mitch's side -

The guy lunged. Reid felt himself being thrown back and groaned when the back of his head hit the wall. There was blood on his pants, dripping from the man's back, and he managed to, before Brand could get a good grip of him, slither out from beneath his body, crawling further away as fast as he could. His head hurt and his hands were cut open now from the uneven wood laid out on the floor, strands sticking out, chafing.

"What are you doing here?" Brand asked, eyes narrowed. He was watching Reid while he sat up, then slowly got to his feet again. "Who are you? Some neighbour's kid?"

"No," Reid said. He crawled a bit more towards Mitch, getting himself between the boy and Brand to give them a few more seconds before they were both minced meat - and then he heard the ominous click.

"Don't move another inch or I'll shoot you in the head."

Reid thought it might be best to follow that advice, so he stayed still.

"Now, let's try this again. Who are you?"

"Just - I was just - I don't think I can answer that question properly seeing as I haven't exactly figured it out myself, you see, my existentialist belief urges me to consider certain factors like the meaning and essence of my life to figure out _who_ I am, in the deeper sense that -

"Shut up."

Reid closed his mouth with a snap.

"Now, stay still, and keep your hands up behind your head - that's right, cross your fingers behind your head - while I search you. In the meantime, I want to know your name and where you come from and what you _think_ you're doing in my house."

As hands carefully felt him up from head to chest Reid rambled down some made-up data, knowing that it would be all unravelled the moment - oh, there. Brand went to his chest-pocked after the check-over for weapons and took out his wallet. Reid squeezed his eyes shut, waited until he was using both hands to - and then _kneed_ him in the groin as hard as he could.

Brand stumbled back, face a grimace, eyes torn wide open in pain, but dropped the wallet immediately and still somehow managed to get a shot loose. Reid winced and looked down on himself.

Then there were footsteps. Many, many footsteps, trampling up the stairs, yelling voices, clicking of weapons' safeties and Reid almost lost it right then and there when Limatour and Danny stormed into the room behind other police officers in safety gear and Brand let his gun fall to the floor before they cuffed him and got him out of there.

"An ambulance is on the way," Danny whispered to him as she grabbed him under the arm.

"Mitch -" Reid turned his head.

"Morgan's getting him downstairs. He'll be taken right to the hospital, don't worry, he's safe."

"I'm glad you were _not one second too early_," Reid said, feeling hysterical and strangely disbelieving. It felt like there was a thick wall between him and the world right now. He'd just _been shot at_. He didn't think the bullet'd hit though.

"There was a shot," Danny said, gripping his chin to make him look her in the eye. "Are you injured?"

"No. I kneed him right before it went off, so he wasn't aiming properly," Reid nodded. That was it. That's why it didn't hurt. Much. Well, his head did a bit, but he doubted it was anything serious.

"Good."

"Get him downstairs," Limantour ordered, putting his own gun away and waved his hands. "Meiss, get a crime scene team in here, we need everything to be taken in as evidence."

Then Danny had him lean on her while she escorted him past the kitchen to the stairs and down. Reid had no idea where Morgan was, but he'd probably already taken the kid with him to the ambulance. There were sirens outside, barely audible.

~*~

"You complete idiot," Morgan yelled, grasping Reid by his shoulders and shaking him. Reid's teeth rattled. "You're crazy, you know that? You are completely out of your _fucking_ mind!"

Reid snorted. The wall between him and the world was gone, and the voices didn't even sound muffled anymore, which was probably why he was fearing his eardrum might not benefit from this yelling. "Like you've never done anything like this before."

"That is not the point. You weren't even armed and you have practically _no_ self-defence skills!"

"I don't care. I couldn't let another boy get killed, I just couldn't. Brand _knew_ the police was on to him, that's probably why he was gone before you arrived at his home, it's all over the news - and you know you'd have been too late if I hadn't been there to distract him for a few minutes, he'd have either gotten away or killed Mitch and I couldn't let that happen -"

"Why didn't you take a _team_ with you?" Limantour asked, coming up behind them. He was scowling so hard, Reid thought he might just catch a slap this time for good measure. Of course, there was no beating, instead Limantour just shook his head. "I never thought you'd be this stupid, Reid."

Reid flushed. "But we got him out, I mean -"

"Go to the ambulance, let yourself get checked over," Limantour ordered, not listening.

"But I'm _fine_ -"

"_Now_, Reid. You have blood in your hair and all over your pants and your hand's injured. One more word and I'm sending you to the hospital with them instead of just a check-up and band-aids here."

"Great," Reid muttered. He shot them both glares, but he went in the end. He was fine. It had just been a gunshot, and not everyone could aim properly. He hadn't even been _hit_.

~*~

The shit hit the fan back at the station.

"It was _one_ lapse of judgment!"

"I'm sorry, Reid. In this case, one is one too much."

Reid took a deep breath. "Look, I made a mistake, I went out there alone. I didn't think, I -"

"No." Limantour almost hit his desk with his flat hand, but stopped right before and put it down gently instead. "No, that, that is a lie, and you know it. I thought it might be the truth, out by the house, but then I remembered a few instances from before, and - you're not an office guy, Reid. You can't just be a consultant, you can't just sit on your butt and help the other people save lives doing that. You have to be on the scene, and when I tell you you can't, you get sullen and resentful and if it leads to behavior like this, then that is unacceptable. I _have_ to let you go. You understand, right?"

"But -"

"No. Come back when you've finished training. I would be delighted to offer you a training spot on our police force and I would be deeply honored if you took the opportunity and got the physical training, the gun permits, visited the regulation seminars and competed with the other trainees for the final rankings. Before you finish an education, however, I cannot let you be part of another investigation. If you don't want the additional education, go back full-time to your private investigative work, taking pictures of cheating husbands and wives and solving small-time theft. There's no other way."

Reid bit his lip. He'd have to talk to Jan and he wasn't even sure he wanted this, he just wanted... he just wanted to help. He'd just thought - he _had_ saved that boy. He rubbed his forehead and nodded. "Fine," he said. "I'll think about it."

"And that's the boy I know and love to have on my team," Limantour said, pleased. "_Think_ about it first, before you act. Call me when you've come to a decision."

~*~

Morgan was waiting outside the police department, leaning against the wall, and looked up when Reid walked out.

"Did he throw you out?" he asked, taking the steps to catch up.

Reid glared and kept walking. "There's no need to be so gleeful about it."

"Really? He let you go?" Morgan's eyebrows rose. "He's more hard-core than I thought."

"Well, I was pretty stupid to go in by myself."

"Impulsive. Brave, I have to admit. And yeah. Incredibly stupid."

"Thanks, Morgan."

"I wanted to say good-bye," Morgan said.

That made Reid stop in mid-step. "You're leaving?"

"Yes. My plane sets off tomorrow morning. I have to pack up my things, write a report for Limantour - you'd think, just being here as a consultant would get me out of doing the nasty paperwork, but obviously not - then get a good night's sleep before I fly back to America."

"Didn't you have the whole... tour de l'Europe thing going?"

Morgan shrugged. "Rome can wait. I miss my team and the job. I'm an addict, what can you say."

Reid smiled a bit. "I might go back to just... helping Jan with the work. We'll be getting more clients in a few days, or so the statistics say. I won't bore you with the numbers. So it's maybe just as well."

"You can always..." Morgan jutted a thumb at the department. "Pass their program, get a badge?"

"I guess. Maybe."

"I'm sorry about this morning, Reid. ...and before, at the crime scene, too, I guess. I didn't mean to - shake you like I did. I was worried, and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Reid shrugged. "My upper arms might have imprints of your fingers on them. Not a lot of damage." He half-grinned.

"And -"

"Don't. Really, you don't need to explain. I get it. Don't worry about it. I'll be fine." He'd always dealt just fine, after all. This was just one of those things. People were fucked up. You helped them along, muddling as well as you could, and then it was time to let go. "I had a good time, though," he said. Offered.

"Me too." Morgan half-grinned back. "We might see each other again some day. Who knows. I'd like that."

"I -"

Morgan didn't let him. He leaned forwards and kissed him, like he'd done last night, deep and intimate, tongues touching and licking over his lower lip before they parted. "Take care."

"You, too."

It still hurt like hell to see Morgan turn around and go to his rented car, and he wasn't in love, he didn't _think_ so, but he'd rather thought it might happen without pain this time. It was just that he'd hoped - and it _might_ have happened. There had been one hell of a potential there, and he hadn't even needed a profile to figure that out.

~*~

_late summer, same year_

643.5 hours of instruction, spread over four major concentrations, pass of nine academic examinations with a score of 85% or better in addition to a physical training and defense tactics test. 17 weeks.

Reid knew every single detail about the training program of the FBI and he recapped it all once more standing before the building he'd seen on TV so many times by now he thought he was already familiar with it.

He took out his cell phone - newly bought, along with the apartment in the city and the legal papers allowing him to be here - and dialed a number he'd had in his head for a few months now without successfully managing to delete it.

"Yep, Morgan here. How'd you get this number?" the voice on the other end said.

"So, I'm standing in front of this building right now. Did you know that the first employees moved into it June 28, 1974? At that time, believe it or not, the FBI Headquarters offices were housed in nine separate locations. By May 30, 1975, the Director, the Associate Director, and several Divisions had moved in - that was thirty-eight years after the first proposal for a separate FBI building and 15 years after Congress approved construction - Morgan, I think you could come and help me find my way around."

"... Reid?"

"Yes."

There was a pause, a good five seconds in which Reid had a feeling his heart had stopped beating and was waiting for something - anything - and most of all for Morgan to say the right words.

Then, "Hold on. I'm by the elevator. I'm coming down."

Reid flipped his cell phone shut and grinned, watching as people flocked by past him, entering in little groups or alone, some of them giving him a glance, some not even realizing he was standing there.

He wasn't a hundred percent sure. But it had been a dream, at some point, a long time ago, with his mother still reading him stories and stroking his hair, and it would definitely be a challenge.

~*~

The End.

_~~ written September 2008_


End file.
